


Five Different Meetings

by amine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amine/pseuds/amine
Summary: Five different ways in five different universes that Alfred and Arthur meet.





	1. I've Just Seen a Face

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may remember a project (that I actually finished, aha) from several years ago where I wrote 30+ different stories just describing different ways that Alfred and Arthur met. Well. I don't have it in me to revise all 30+ stories (and believe me, they need revising), so I'll be picking five of the most popular/ones I'm most pleased with and will be posting them here.
> 
> (Rating may be updated as needed.)

There were no suddenly appearing birds or stars falling from the sky when he first laid eyes on him, but Alfred knew that he had just seen the person he was meant to be with just the same. The first time had been a bit of an accident. He’d been running late to get to class and thus had been sprinting through the crowds of people on the sidewalk, and then he’d seen him—a man in a fancy, obviously expensive suit with an equally expensive briefcase yelling at someone on an expensive phone in a thick English accent, with large but fitting eyebrows. He was perfect. By the time Alfred’s thoughts had caught up to him, the man was long gone. He wound up being late to class, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate anyway.

The second time happened when he was on the bus. It had stopped at a light, right next to one of those fancy coffee and tea places that he usually didn’t pay any attention to. But that day, sitting near one of the windows and delicately nursing a teacup, was the man. Alfred gaped and tried to get off, but the driver refused. It wasn’t a designated stop, he said. By the time Alfred finally got off and ran back to the shop, the man was gone. Alfred made it a point to stop by everyday around the same time if he could help it.

The third and fourth times were at the local record store. The first occurrence Alfred happened to see him inside the store, but was once again too late getting inside before the man had left the store and disappeared into the crowd. The second occurrence was a breakthrough.

He’d been in the store looking for an old vinyl for a project, and then he looked up and there was the man across from him. His breath hitched and though he wanted to speak, he’d lost all ability to do so. The man looked up, right at him, and Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. The man’s eyes were green—like a forest or something equally poetic. Alfred was blatantly staring and the man gave him an annoyed look before he left with the vinyl he’d picked out. Alfred was left gaping like a fish.

“He’s freaking amazing, and I keep seeing him everywhere. Like it’s destiny or something, you know?” 

Alfred’s brother, Matthew, was the only one he confided to, though Matthew just sighed and shook his head.

“I know you're lonely and all, Al, but this is a little too much, don't you think? Dreaming up some guy?”

“I'm not going crazy, Mattie! He’s real, and we’re totally meant to be!”

“He might not even like men, you know,” Matthew said with a look that screamed pity. 

Alfred grinned and carried on anyway.

“Psssh, everyone likes me! It won’t be a problem!”

Alfred continued to see the man everywhere, but he was always just a second too late. He just built up his resolve that he was going to introduce himself if it killed him. With the way he would run out into traffic to try to cross the street to reach the man—and other such reckless things—he was on the road to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Then one day the chance came. He was leaving the fancy coffee shop when he saw the man entering the subway. Alfred didn’t hesitate and pushed roughly past people, nearly falling down the stairs as he barreled down into the subway. He whipped his head back and forth, looking for him desperately, until he saw the shaggy head of blond hair he’d come to know so well and he was off running again. Luckily he had a pass, because he probably would have just ignored the need for a ticket otherwise as he followed the man.

Once again he was too late, and the train doors closed before Alfred could run in and join the man standing next to the doors. The train slowly started to pull away and the man turned and saw Alfred standing there. His eyes widened. Alfred, in a fit of desperation, tore a sheet of paper out of one of his notebooks and furiously scribbled a message on it. He held it up as he jogged alongside the train that was steadily picking up speed.

_My name is Alfred._

The man raised one of his impressively sized eyebrows as Alfred ran desperately beside the train, dodging people and giving the man a meaningful, pleading look. Pretty soon he'd crash into the wall. He must have looked insane, but this was destiny, and destiny didn’t care if it looked ridiculous.

The man seemed to sigh impatiently and he fished around in the briefcase he was carrying. Alfred's gaze flicked back in front of him to make sure he had enough room to run, and that he wasn’t about to collide into either the wall or another person. When he looked back through the window of the train, the man was smirking and holding up his own sheet of paper.

_My name is Arthur._

Alfred gasped and skidded to a halt just before he slammed into the wall and then all he could do was watch as the train sped away. When the lights faded into nothing in the tunnel, Alfred threw his fist into the air and laughed triumphantly, his smile was so wide his skin would probably crack.

“Arthur…” He smiled as he shoved his hands into his pockets and practically skipped his way out of the subway.


	2. Your Distant Sky

Arthur cringed as his would-be supper went up in flames once again, leaving a charred brick that didn't even remotely resemble the meat it had been before he'd started to cook it. It wouldn’t go to waste, however. The meat had been a gift from Berwald—a rare treat. He sighed and cut the blackened meat into two portions.

As if on cue, his younger brother Peter came bounding in from outside. He was still a child and so he was not yet weary with their dying world. He still believed their older brothers would return, bringing news of a place that had an abundance of food and clean water, no threats of vicious creatures, and plenty of reasons to keep on living. Arthur knew better. If they weren't dead, they had long stopped caring about the two little brothers they had left behind.

Peter slid into his chair at the makeshift table and took one look at the plate in front of him before he grumbled about how nasty Arthur’s cooking was and how he didn't want to eat it.

"Tino's food isn't this bad," Peter said with a whine and slumped stubbornly in his chair.

"Well, we're not with Tino, are we? You'll eat what you have and like it." 

Arthur walked behind Peter and pushed the chair roughly forward, causing Peter to yelp and sit up straight before his face could slam into the table.

"You're a jerk, Arthur! Jerk Arthur! Jerk Arthur!"

Arthur slammed his fist against the table and gave Peter a sharp, warning look. Peter immediately cowered under his gaze and picked at the piece of meat before him, though not without a dark scowl on his face. They ate in silence and then Peter vanished from their rundown house, likely to go visit with Berwald and Tino again. 

Arthur watched him run across the barren earth from the window and then sighed.

Arthur had once convinced himself that he had to keep on living for Peter's sake—that his little brother _needed_ him. Now he knew that Tino and Berwald would be more than happy to look after Peter in his absence, and that Peter would indeed prefer it that way. There was truly nothing for him to live for.

When their older brothers had still been around, they'd made several treks to nearby abandoned towns to pillage whatever they could carry. Despite this, their little house was empty save for the few, meager items they'd managed to scrounge up, as well as a few items that they'd received as gifts. The beds were made by Berwald, thus ending the need to sleep on the floor. The pan he used to cook with came from Tino. No matter the state of their house, the land outside was dead. Years and years ago most of the world had been wiped out during a full blown nuclear war. Those that were left behind barely clung to life. Each day was a test of whether they would have anything to eat, if they would be killed by wild animals, or if they would lose hope and end their miserable lives early.

There were no more countries, just vague boundaries referred to by the continents they used to be on. East Europe was desolate and uninhabitable, and Arthur didn't know or care about the state of the others. In that little house on a cliff in West Europe, Arthur often thought of flinging himself into the ocean below, exchanging his life for whatever waited beyond. He didn't know why he never followed through.

Arthur grabbed the bucket beside the door and made for the coast. Perhaps he'd caught some fish that day. The nets were empty when he checked them and Arthur swore under his breath. He stared out at the expanse of the ocean when a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was a bird—a pigeon—he realized and he watched it with a great deal of interest. It didn't fly away at the sight of him. Instead it approached him and stared expectantly up at him.

"Well, hello there. Where did you come from?" Arthur asked the bird, although he knew it wouldn't respond. It cooed and held its foot out. Arthur knelt down and realized that a slip of paper was tied to the bird's leg. He furrowed his brow as he gently untied the knot binding the paper and unraveled the message, because it was a message, scrawled in messy, barely legible handwriting.

_Hey there, whoever you are! If you're there, that is. Hopefully Birdie actually finds someone… If you're reading this, write a letter back, all right? Just attach it to Birdie's leg and he'll do the rest!_

Arthur just stared at the letter for several long moments, reading it over and over again. Finally he lowered it and wondered just who the hell was dumb enough to send a bird out with no destination. Someone who didn't deserve such a useful creature, that was who, he decided. He'd just have to keep it and put it to more practical uses than its foolhardy former owner had. He gently eased the bird on his finger then onto his shoulder and grabbed his bucket. There may have been no fish that day, but at least he'd found the bird.

He kept the bird in the house for several days, wondering what he should do with it, and he kept re-reading the letter. Whoever had sent it was an idiot, but it was an idiot who still had hope. He hated to admit it, but it gave him a sliver of hope, as well. He grumbled and retrieved what precious little paper and ink he had and proceeded to compose a short message of his own.

_What kind of idiot are you to send that bird out with no destination? You are wasting paper, as well!_

He carefully tied the letter to the pigeon's foot and it seemed to understand what it had to do, because the second Arthur put it outside, it took off into the air. Arthur watched as it faded into the distance and then went back into the house. He probably wouldn't get a response.

Several weeks later, however, the bird appeared at his window, cooing and holding out its foot expectantly. Arthur blinked in surprise as he took the message off the bird's leg, fully expecting it to be the same one he'd sent the bird off with all those weeks ago. Instead he was shocked to find a new message written in the same barely legible scrawl from before.

_Oh, great! Someone is out there, after all! Hey, where are you from? I'm in North America (or what's left of it, anyway). And my name is Alfred! I found some seeds the other day, I'm going to plant them and hope something grows!_

Arthur scoffed at how the writer, Alfred, had completely ignored his inquiry about his intelligence—or lack thereof—in sending the bird out the way he'd done. Then he had to gape at Alfred's location—North America. Arthur turned to regard the pigeon, which ruffled its feathers and cooed, and his eyes widened. Such a little bird had flown that great a distance, he thought in awe. That such things could still happen in that world was a miracle in itself.

He gave the bird a few days to rest up and regain the energy it would need to make the return trip again, while he milled over the information he'd learned from such a short message. There were still people in North America, there were pigeons who could make a trip across the ocean, and his correspondent had seeds he was going to grow. Arthur hadn't had fresh fruits or vegetables in many, many years. What little fruit they could find was all canned items from days long past.

He clicked his tongue as he composed another message.

_Your bird is quite impressive, making a trip like this. I am in West Europe and my name is Arthur._

It was with more excitement that he sent the pigeon off that time, and Peter joined him as he watched the bird head towards the western horizon. The anticipation of a return message made the wait seem longer than when he'd been expecting nothing. One day, at last, the pigeon delicately landed on his head and held out the precious message it carried.

_Damn, I knew Birdie was amazing, but I didn't know he was that great! Nice to meet you, Arthur! (Well, you know what I mean.) Guess what sprouted while I was waiting for your letter? Tomatoes! My friend Feliciano is going to be so happy! By the way, I sent some seeds with Birdie, so hopefully they made the trip safely._

Arthur realized that there was a tiny packet of something attached to the message that time, and opening it revealed some seeds. Arthur stared out at the dry land around him and wondered if it would even be possible to grow such a thing. He'd have to ask Tino and Berwald for help. 

He stared back at the bird with a smile. It was odd how one little bird carried so much hope.

_Thank you for the seeds, Alfred. I'll be planting them and hoping for the best, as well._

Their correspondence continued for months, and it very quickly became the thing that Arthur lived for. Alfred's letters, Alfred's seemingly endless optimism, the seeds to various fruits and vegetables he sometimes sent—he and Peter had quite the garden growing—and how rapidly he grew to care for Alfred, who gave him hope in a dying world.

_I managed to dig up some old books and I got to read about something they had in the old world: airplanes! If I had one of those, I could fly just like Birdie to meet you. But anyway, as soon as I have enough supplies, I'm going to build a boat, and I'll sail to West Europe. I know you're going to say I'm crazy, but I'd be crazy not to come to you._

Just the thought made Arthur's heart pound, and although he did indeed send a message telling Alfred he was utterly mad to even think of making such a journey, he couldn't deny how utterly happy it made him to think of Alfred, who he'd come to live for, sailing across the ocean to be with him.

But then months passed and there was no word from Alfred. Arthur watched the sky anxiously day after day, ignoring his brother's teasing, but there was never any sign of the little pigeon. That is, until one day when the bird landed on his window, its legs caked with blood. Arthur gasped, but realized that the blood was not from an injury the bird suffered, but rather it had come from whoever attached the message, which was splotched with drops of blood. Arthur opened the message in a panic.

_I'm sorry, friend. It took a long time for me to even find the energy to write this letter. There was an earthquake, it killed several people and destroyed my garden. Everything I worked for is gone. I don't think I'll be coming to meet you after all. Funny, huh? I thought as long as I held out with hope that things would work out. Guess life is a bitch no matter how you look at it._

Arthur felt the blood drain from his face and he swallowed hard. The thought of Alfred, his eternally optimistic friend, losing hope was just incomprehensible. It made him angry to think about it and he spent several days fuming at Alfred for letting the world get him down. When he calmed down enough to write back, he practically tore a sheet of paper as he furiously wrote a message.

_Don't give up, you fool! My garden is still growing, and you'll see for yourself that hope still exists in this world. I'll teach you just as you taught me. So belt up and get your arse over here._

Arthur sighed as he rolled up that message, hoping that Alfred knew him well enough by then to know the real meaning behind his harsh words. 

_Let me be your reason to live, just as you are mine._

He tied the message to the bird's leg and stared out at his thriving garden and the ocean beyond. He glanced down at the pigeon perched on his hand and kissed the top of its head, imagining that the action could somehow be felt by Alfred waiting across the sea.

"Godspeed, little one." 

And he released the bird into the sky.


	3. You Are Likely to Be Eaten By a Grue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is based on early computer text adventure games (ex. Zork). So beware of second person, game logic, and general shenanigans. It may be a bit odd to follow at first, but hopefully it should be intuitive quickly. This one might be favorite of this series, ha ha.

_Welcome to SCONE!  
a daring dungeon adventure_

_© 2010 Kiku Honda_

__

_Now Loading… … …_

_…_

_You are standing before the south side of a gated fence of an elegant, vine covered house. The windows are shut tight, except for one window on the second floor that is slightly ajar. There is a forest that surrounds the house on all sides._

**In Front of House  
| Moves: 0 | Score: 0 |  >** go west

_You are in a dense forest that surrounds you on all sides._

**Forest  
| Moves: 1 | Score: 0 |  >** go west

_You are in a dense forest that surrounds you on all sides._

**Forest  
| Moves: 2 | Score: 0 |  >** go west

_You are in a dense forest that surrounds you on all sides. There is a stick on the ground here._

**Forest  
| Moves: 3 | Score: 0 |  >** take stick

_Taken._

**Forest  
| Moves: 4 | Score: 0 |  >** go east

_You are in a dense forest that surrounds you on all sides._

**Forest  
| Moves: 5 | Score: 0 |  >** go east

_You are in a dense forest that surrounds you on all sides._

**Forest  
| Moves: 6 | Score: 0 |  >** go east

_You are in a dense forest that surrounds you on all sides._

**Forest  
| Moves: 7 | Score: 0 |  >** go east

_You are in a dense forest that surrounds you on all sides._

**Forest  
| Moves: 8 | Score: 0 |  >** what the hell i should be back at the house by now

_You have phrased this in a way I don’t understand._

**Forest  
| Moves: 8 | Score: 0 |  >** new game

_Are you sure you wish to start a new game?_

**Forest  
| Moves: 8 | Score: 0 |  >** yes

_Now Loading… … …_

_…_

_You are standing before the south side of a gated fence of an elegant, vine covered house. The windows are shut tight, except for one window on the second floor that is slightly ajar. There is a forest that surrounds the house on all sides._

**In Front of House  
| Moves: 0 | Score: 0 |  >** go north

_You find yourself in an extravagant garden in front of the house that is filled with many species of flowers and highly detailed topiary displays. There is a covered gazebo on the west end. The side of the house is covered in what appear to be climbable vines._

_If you listen closely, you can hear faint laughter._

**Garden  
| Moves: 1 | Score: 0 |  >** open door

_The front door is locked tight._

**Garden  
| Moves: 2 | Score: 0 |  >** climb vines 

_You are on the terrace of the second story of the house. The view of the garden from here is spectacular._

_There is one window on the far end of the terrace that is slightly ajar._

**Terrace  
| Moves: 3 | Score: 0 |  >** open window

_You open the window enough that you should be able to get inside with some effort._

**Terrace  
| Moves: 4 | Score: 0 |  >** enter window

_It’s a tight squeeze, but you manage to crawl inside and find yourself in the master bedroom of the house. The king-sized canopy bed looks to have been recently slept in. On the dresser are various trinkets including a rose, pipe, tomato and a panda charm._

_To the east is an open door to a bathroom and to the north is another closed door._

**Master Bedroom  
| Moves: 5 | Score: 10 |  >** go east

_You are in the master bedroom’s joint bathroom. To the west is the doorway to the master bedroom. Resting on the sink is a pair of tweezers._

**Master Bathroom  
| Moves: 6 | Score: 10 |  >** take tweezers

_Taken._

**Master Bathroom  
| Moves: 7 | Score: 30 |  >** go west

_You are in the master bedroom._

**Master Bedroom  
| Moves: 8 | Score: 30 |  >** go north

_You are on the landing of the second floor of the house. To the south is the master bedroom, a closed door lies to the north, and an open doorway to the west reveals a staircase leading upwards. To the east is a window. To the northeast is a staircase leading downwards._

**Second Floor Landing  
| Moves: 9 | Score: 30 |  >** go west

_You have moved into a pitch dark area. Take care or you will be eaten by a monster._

**???  
| Moves: 10 | Score: 30 |  >** go east

_You are on the second floor landing._

**Second Floor Landing  
| Moves: 11 | Score: 30 |  >** go northeast

_You are on the first floor landing of the house. To the south is the front door, which is bolted shut. To the west is a staircase leading upwards. To the east is an open archway leading to a kitchen. To the north is another archway to a drawing room._

**First Floor Landing  
| Moves: 12 | Score: 30 |  >** go south

_The door is bolted shut._

**First Floor Landing  
| Moves: 13 | Score: 30 |  >** unlock door

_The lock appears to be enchanted with some sort of magic._

**First Floor Landing  
| Moves: 14 | Score: 30 |  >** break down door

_You can’t do that._

**First Floor Landing  
| Moves: 15 | Score: 30 |  >** go to hell

_There is no entrance to hell that you can see here._

**First Floor Landing  
| Moves: 15 | Score: 30 |  >** fuck you

_Watch your language or I’ll have to wash your mouth out with soap!_

**First Floor Landing  
| Moves: 15 | Score: 30 |  >** look

_You are on the first floor landing of the house. To the south is the front door, which is bolted shut. To the west is a staircase leading upwards. To the east is an open archway leading to a kitchen. To the north is another archway to a drawing room._

**First Floor Landing  
| Moves: 16 | Score: 30 |  >** go north

_You are in the drawing room of the house. There is a large bay window to the north and an archway leading to a staircase to the south._

_There is a comfortable looking settee here that is already occupied by a gentleman with the largest eyebrows you have ever seen in your life. He is drinking a cup of tea and appears to have not noticed you yet._

**Drawing Room  
| Moves: 17 | Score: 30 |  >** speak to man

_The man is startled from his reverie and spills his tea on his lap. He lets out a string of colorful words that are most certainly not appropriate for teatime before he turns to glare at you._

**Drawing Room  
| Moves: 18 | Score: 30 |  >** apologize to man

_The man is honestly surprised by your apology and his face turns a bright shade of red._

_“Don’t worry about it,” he stammers and looks away. He finally looks back at you with his gigantic eyebrows furrowed in suspicion._

_“How did you get inside?” he asks._

**Drawing Room  
| Moves: 19 | Score: 30 |  >** apologize to man

_The man’s face turns an even brighter shade of red and he sputters incoherently._

_After a moment, he looks back at you with a friendlier gaze and reaches for a tray of what looks like rocks._

_“Would you like to try a scone?” he asks._

**Drawing Room  
| Moves: 20 | Score: 30 |  >** eat scone

_The man’s eyes light up in happiness as you take the blackened piece of food. As soon as you put it in your mouth, you instantly regret it. Although the man is watching you in eager anticipation, you are only aware of the blinding pain coursing through you at the utterly horrible taste of the man’s scones._

_As your vision begins to fade, you find yourself wishing that you had listened to your common sense that tells you not to accept food, especially blackened imitations of food, from strangers!_

*****YOU HAVE DIED*****

\---

“What the hell?!” Alfred shouted and nearly knocked his computer over as he sprang out of his chair. He ground his teeth in frustration as he whipped out his cellphone and selected a line from his list of contacts.

“Hello, Kiku Honda speaking,” came his friend’s voice on the other line after a few rings.

“Kiku! What the hell is with that ‘Scone’ game of yours?! I ate the guy’s scones and I died!!”

“Ah, so you _did_ eat the scones, as I expected! Arthur will be most pleased!”

“…what?” Alfred finally replied after attempting and failing to parse his friend’s words for several moments.

“The man in the game is based on a friend I would like you to meet. His food is a bit…intolerable, so he’ll be pleased to know that there is someone out there who will be willing to try it!”

“Eh? Wait a minute, Kiku! I didn’t mean—”

“I’ll let Arthur know right away! Until later, Alfred.” Kiku disconnected before Alfred could get another word in.

Alfred shoved his phone back in his pocket and slid back into his computer chair with a heavy sigh. What a pain if he’d have to experience in real life what he had in the game. Kiku wouldn’t actually expect him to eat food that would kill him, though, would he?

Speaking of the game, Alfred turned back to his monitor and opted to start a new game. He’d just have to see what would happen if he didn’t apologize or take those killer scones.


	4. Gunner and Summoner

Alfred never once thought to question the way of the world, it just was what it was. Monsters carried money with them, as well as the occasional potion or other such useful items. On the rare occasion, they had a helpful accessory or two on them, as well. A hard day’s work was all well and good, but in the end, the best way to make a living was to clear out the monsters that roamed the countryside. Those that were in good shape formed traveling parties and set out to rid the world of the creatures that plagued innocent travelers, all while making a tidy profit in the process. Or, as it was in Alfred’s case, they worked as mercenaries for their local guild, taking up tasks that the townsfolk commissioned. 

But Alfred was tired of taking on menial tasks like clearing the (mostly harmless) mochis out of an old woman’s garden, delivering a letter for a man who broke his leg, helping a wife pick out the perfect color for her future baby’s room, going on a date with a desperate young woman—the list went on. He wanted an adventure, the likes of which many others before him had set out for. The world was a huge place, with so much more than his hometown of America could ever provide. He wanted to be a hero, so that he’d have a statue erected in his honor in the town square, and travelers from all over the world would come to see where the great adventurer Alfred F. Jones had been born and raised. 

Like any adventurer, Alfred had picked out a class to specialize in, and he had chosen to be a gunner. Although his brother insisted that he was being unduly arrogant, Alfred was confident in his abilities and was certain that there was no one who could match his skill in that class. He was an excellent marksman, quick on the draw, and had fashioned his own elemental bazooka that drew from and enhanced his own limited mana for use in addition to his two pistols. Simply put, he was amazing and he knew it.

But even the most amazing of heroes knew that he couldn’t take on the world as a gunner alone. He needed backup, a full party of a variety of support classes who would watch his back while he went in guns a’blazing.

Which brought Alfred to his present predicament. He wanted to set out on his adventure, but he wanted at least one other party member before he did so, and of course he decided on the class that would be most difficult to find in his area of the world: a mage.

“Preferably a cute white mage. You know, one who will lovingly tend my wounds after a battle and fawn over how brave and strong I was!” Alfred heckled his brother after he’d completed yet another guild assignment.

Matthew sighed. He was quite happy he had opted not to specialize in a class and had instead taken over as proprietor of the guild, even if his primary customer was his annoying brother. He could only imagine what he’d be dragged into if he had decided to try his hand at adventuring like Alfred.

“You know perfectly well that there are no mages around here who aren’t already in parties. All the magic schools are in England and Norway.”

“Yeah, but those towns are so far away!” Alfred let out a whine and put on his best put upon puppy face. “I want a mage now! _Before_ I start on my adventure! Come on, Matt, you were in Canada recently, right? Weren’t there any there? Or maybe you have some assignments from a mage? Help me out here, bro!”

Matthew hesitated and bit his lip before he sighed. “Well, there is _one_ mage I’m aware of, but I’ve heard he’s—”

“Ridiculously powerful and talented?”

“Well, yes, but also that he’s—”

“The kind of person to strike fear into the hearts of men?”

“That, too, but mostly that he’ll—”

“Tell me where he is! I’m going to have him join my party and we’ll go off on our adventure!”

Matthew twitched and removed his glasses so he could rub his eyes. His brother really was an idiot. “If you really must know, he’s said to be hiding in the woods south of here.”

“Awesome! I’m off then! Thanks for the info, Mattie!”

Matthew watched his brother as he took off armed with his pistols and bazooka and then rolled his eyes. “If he doesn’t kill you right away, don’t come crying back to me. I _tried_ to warn you…”

* * *

Alfred was admittedly a bit reckless as he blasted his way through the countryside and into the southern woods, so he had very little mana left by the time he reached the sea of trees. He was so excited about the prospect of recruiting a mage that he didn’t care. He wouldn’t necessarily need mana all that often anymore if he had a mage keeping his back. His bazooka functioned as a non-elemental weapon in a pinch anyway.

He slung the enormous gun onto his back and adjusted his glasses as he tentatively stepped into the darkness of the forest. He’d heard rumors of ghosts lurking in the woods, but tried to brush those unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind, ignoring the chill that went down his spine at the lack of any sort of sound or sign of life outside of vegetation in the thick trees. He wandered deep into the woods, jumping at the slightest sound and wasting more ammunition shooting at specters that weren’t really there, until finally he reached the point where he was ready to give up and go back. Even an awesome mage wasn’t worth the stress of that forest. It was then that he stumbled through a break in the trees and he squinted at the sudden assault of sunlight. When he could comfortably open his eyes again, he gasped. It was like he’d stepped into another world entirely.

In the clearing, the sun poured onto a beautifully tended garden full of rosebushes, ornamental trees, and an array of various flowers and shrubbery. What looked like flecks of light floated serenely on a light breeze, and Alfred’s frayed nerves were calmed by the sound of running water provided by a stream that ran through the area. He might have just been imagining it, but Alfred swore he could hear music as well. Alfred took slow steps as he wandered into the garden and regarded everything with absolute awe. Finally, his eyes fell onto a small building in one corner of the garden, and his adventurer’s instinct told him he’d found the location of his future mage. With an elated grin, he closed the distance between himself and the building with a sprint and he slammed the door open as he rushed inside.

Like the garden, the building was beautifully decorated with what were probably spoils from some vicious creatures—dragons perhaps, they were notorious hoarders—and pieces that could only come from races like elves or dwarves. In particular, a suit of dwarf-made armor paired with an elfin blade caught his attention. A distinctly giddy feeling was growing in Alfred’s chest, knowing that his soon to be party member was so amazing that he could obtain dragon treasure or converse with other magical beings.

The flecks of light from the garden seemed to follow him as he wandered into a large hall adorned with impressive tapestries and accentuated by an enormous chair at the other end of the hall.

“What, may I ask, are you doing here?” The voice seemed to come abruptly from the chair, causing Alfred to jump, startled.

“Oh, hey! You must be the mage my brother told me about!” Alfred quickly ran so he could better see his mage-to-be.

“ _Summoner_ ,” the voice said and it was then that Alfred got a good look at the source, and the grin fell right off his face. Rather than a badass old man with some sort of crazy magic stick, it was instead a tiny blond man with enormous eyebrows who was sipping at a cup of tea. The majority of his body was covered with a cloak that was tied at his throat with a frilly bow. A small green creature ran around his feet while crying out in a tiny voice over and over. Alfred scowled.

“You’re it? What the hell, you’re not a badass, terrifying mage! You’re just a little pipsqueak!”

Said mage also scowled and lowered his teacup, his gigantic eyebrows knotting into a comical mass on his forehead. “ _Summoner_ , you dolt.”

“Well, _excuuuuuse_ me, princess. Whatever, a mage is a mage, I guess. Anyway, my name is Alfred F. Jones, gunner and future hero, and I’m here to tell you that you’re going to join my party!” Alfred announced proudly, the grin returning to his face.

“And why in the world would I want to do that?” 

Alfred noted that he had an odd expression on his face, like he was going to be sick or something.

“Because! I’m going to set off on an adventure to be a great hero, and I need magic backup to do so! That’s where you come in! I mean, you _can_ cast magic, can’t you?”

“Of course I can, you imbecile! Far stronger than anything you could ever imagine!”

“Which is why you’re going to join my party!”

“Absolutely not! Now kindly remove yourself or I’ll do it for you.”

Alfred huffed, but didn’t move an inch. “Man, you’re stingy. You should be honored I’m asking you to join me! I’m the best damn gunner in the whole world!”

“I do not associate with barbarians who need to carry around unnecessarily large guns to assert their worth. Compensating for something?” The summoner sniffed and resumed sipping at his tea.

“Hey. _Hey_. This here—” He pulled the bazooka off his back and waved it at the summoner, who didn’t even flinch. “—is an elemental bazooka that harnesses my mana! And I made it myself! Can you name any other gunners who have done such a thing? I’m going to be a hero, but I need your help to do it!”

“The answer is no, and now I’m afraid your time is up.”

Alfred frowned, but before he could ask what the summoner meant, he got his answer. The ground beneath him exploded in a burst of white light, and, looking down, Alfred saw the runic markings in a circle around him. What he had presumed to be flecks of light were in fact faeries, their lovely faces almost maniacal as they giggled and held Afraid firmly in place on the ground. His gaze shot up again to the summoner, who had moved his cloak aside to reveal the book on his lap. Alfred swallowed hard and realized that the odd look on the summoner’s face had been because he’d been casting a spell the whole time.

“Wait a minute, you can’t—”

“Say goodnight, ‘ _hero_ ’.” The summoner smirked as he stood up and held the book aloft in one hand, with the other hand held out towards Alfred. The man’s eyes closed and he chanted an incantation in a language Alfred had never heard before.

The faeries released him just in time for the spell to be completed, the runes bursting around him and washing over Alfred in a sensation that might have been pain, but he was too shocked to tell. Before Alfred’s world went dark, he was vaguely aware of the summoner approaching him with a dangerous grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one I actually started to continue, but then it died like most ongoing fics I start. :| Which is too bad because as a huge Nerd™ I had a bunch of ideas and plans I'd been excited to write. 
> 
> Ah well. Worry not, Arthur eventually joins Alfred's party and after many adventures they recruit others and fall in love with each other, ha ha. ~~But Arthur never stops casting magic on Alfred to put him in his place fffff~~


	5. Fairy Wings and Dragon Scales

Two dragon brothers sat perched on a cliffside, surveying the scenes unfolding before them as the sun crept into the sky and chased away the will-o’-the-wisps. The other magical creatures were beginning to stir and greet the day, just as the dragons were. The fairies were flitting in the meadow, the dwarves crept up from their mines, the elves carried themselves with their ever-present air of self-importance, a small never before seen creature crept through the forest of mushrooms… Alfred, the self-proclaimed elder of the two dragons, stopped his scan of the landscape and nudged his brother.

“Matt! Look over there in the mushroom grove!”

The meeker of the two dragons also stopped looking around and glanced in the direction of the mushrooms. He tilted his head to the side in wonder.

“What a remarkable creature...what do you suppose it is?”

“A human.” A unicorn with a splendid mane and an extra thick tuft of hair on his chin appeared on the cliff behind the brothers and shook his head, allowing his magnificent hair to sparkle in the sun.

“Oh hey, Francis! Found any virgins lately?” Alfred asked cheerfully.

Matthew chose to ignore his brother’s lewd comment and instead inquired further on the presence of a human in their midst.

“A human? I thought that humans couldn't come here?”

“It's a human child, so he still has magic in his heart. Perhaps Big Brother should go and make his stay comfortable, no?”

Alfred had stopped listening at the confirmation that it was a human child who still believed in magic and he shifted excitedly, his wings flapping up a gale as he fidgeted. “I wanna see him! I'm gonna go see!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t go after—” Matthew started to say, but Alfred was already taking flight and soaring down towards the wandering child. Matthew gasped and called after him. “Alfred! Wait!”

Alfred tore through the sky at a frightening speed as he descended towards the intriguing human child, his landing causing a great quake that uprooted many mushrooms and knocked the boy clean off his feet. The boy quickly scrambled to his feet and stared up with increasingly wide eyes at the enormous beast before him.

“I'm not afraid of you, dragon!” The child shouted, although he was in fact trembling violently. It even came through in his voice.

Alfred quirked his head to one side, regarding the quivering human below him. Having never encountered humans before, he could only assume them to be apes of some kind, but with less hair. Oh, but there were a couple of fuzzy patches of hair above this child's eyes, like those caterpillars that the fairies sometimes turned into butterflies. Alfred huffed.

“You’re a strange little creature, aren’t you?” 

The little human stopped trembling and bristled in indignation instead. The fuzzy patches on his face pushed together into one large mass that was very amusing to behold.

“N-No more odd than a dragon, I should think!” This time there was no waver to his voice.

Alfred lowered his long neck so his head was level with the human’s body and the boy jumped back in shock. His eyes widened as well, and that’s when Alfred got a good look at them. They were a very pretty shade of green, like the forest of the elves he never got to set foot nor wing in.

“You have nice eyes,” he stated honestly.

The child’s face turned a rather interesting shade of red then, a phenomenon that fascinated Alfred. “What…why would you say a thing like that?!”

“Why not? I like nice things.” Alfred tilted his head in confusion. The boy bristled again, and his face turned an even deeper shade of red. Alfred nudged the child with his snout and was swatted for his trouble. 

“What kind of dragon are you?”

“The best in my clan!” Alfred stood up tall and proud, and he puffed out his chest and beat his wings. The boy was knocked off his feet again and Alfred stopped. He lowered his head again to regard the human once more. “I’m Alfred, how about you?”

The boy seemed to gain more confidence from the admittance of Alfred’s name, because he also puffed out his little chest and held his head high. “My name is Arthur! Just like the king of legend!”

“So even humans can have kings? Say, have you ever flown before?”

* * *

“I have you now, foul beast! You will not terrorize the good people anymore!”

Alfred danced nimbly around Arthur as he waved a stick around like a sword. He’d dodge for a while, but inevitably he’d let Arthur win. Then he’d fall to the ground with a great crash and Arthur would descend upon him to deliver the final blow in the form of arms around his large head while he laughed. Alfred would chuckle, too, though not too loud so as not to accidentally injure his little friend. Arthur was indeed _his_ now. Much in the same way another dragon would hoard treasure, Alfred hoarded Arthur’s attention and snapped at anyone who threatened that, including his brother.

Day after day Arthur would come, and he and Alfred would spend their time together in happiness Alfred had never known before. He was relatively young for a dragon, only a couple hundred years old, so the world was still full of wonders for him, but nothing was so fascinating to him as the boy with the green eyes and fuzzy patches above his eyes. Sometimes they’d soar through the sky, or Alfred would swim in the sea while Arthur sat perched on his back, peering through a spyglass and playing a game he called “pirates”. Or sometimes they’d just sit in the meadow while the fairies were careful not to draw too much of Arthur’s attention. It was fun, and Alfred wanted it to last forever.

But Alfred didn’t feel years the same way his Arthur did, and he noted as Arthur grew steadily taller and taller, his childlike wonder giving way to more practical diversions. Their games decreased in frequency, conversations Alfred couldn’t quite follow replacing them, and then Arthur’s visits grew shorter and shorter until one day Alfred sat waiting for his friend…and he never came.

“He’s a human, Alfred. Children grow up and they stop believing in magic,” Matthew said gently to his bereft brother, who continued to wait in the same spot for Arthur to return.

They were the words Alfred least wanted to hear and he lashed out violently against his brother in anger and dismay, his heart broken. “It’s not true!! Arthur wouldn’t leave me!!”

He went on a rampage, his common sense clouded over with a haze of rage and grief, until he finally tucked himself away in a cave, wanting to be alone.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how much time passed while he sulked like a child in that cave. Days, perhaps decades. Even Matthew had given up trying to get him to come out after a while and Alfred lay in the dark missing Arthur and their carefree days of play.

One day, though, the sun broke through to where Alfred lay and the dragon opened his eyes in irritation. Someone was coming to bother him again and he lifted his head to growl menacingly at the intruder. 

“I'm not afraid of you, dragon!” Came the reply. Alfred froze at those words and allowed the haze of anger and sadness he’d been shrouded in to lift so he could see the figure clearly.

The frame was taller and stockier than when he'd last seen it. His features were much sharper as well, but those green eyes and thick fuzzy patches were undeniably those of his Arthur. The figure approached him carefully while Alfred stumbled to his feet, a small smile forming on the human’s face.

“We meet again…Alfred.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending this trip down memory lane with pure platonic fairy tale fluff. :) There was another fic I was considering posting instead, but I think that one might have to be posted separately just because of the nature of the warnings I'd have to add to it.


End file.
